Falling Stars and Paper Cranes
by Calenlass Greenleaf1
Summary: Cloud wishes on falling stars, but Tifa wishes on a thousand origami cranes. Would any of those wishes come true? A four-part fic that spans FFVII and the Compilation. Story notes inside. Nominated for the 2010 Genesis Awards; not shorlisted.
1. Part I

**Title:** Falling Stars and Paper Cranes

**Author:** Calenlass Greenleaf

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII in any way.

**Spoilers:** FFVII & Compilation. The timeline I use is the one given in the Ultimania Guides.

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings:** Angst, implied violence, etc. Mild swearing (Use of the word "damn" and "dammit"). No yaoi or yuri. This is a fic with more emphasis on character and plot exploration, rather than a romance-centric story.

**Pairings:** Cloti, with some Clerith and mentions of other pairings.

**Summary:** Cloud wishes on falling stars, but Tifa wishes on a thousand origami cranes. Would any of those wishes come true? A four-part fic that spans FFVII and the Compilation.

**A/N:** The concept of a thousand paper cranes has long been used; I wanted to try that idea.

**A/N #2:** ~~~~~~~ signifies a time change. *:*:*:*:*:*:*:* signify a change in POV. The seven succeeding single dash lines are just used to provide extra spacing.

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**Falling Stars and Paper Cranes**

_**Part I**_

_~~~~~~~Nibelheim, __[ μ ] – εуλ__ 1991~~~~~~~_

A pair of bright blue eyes stares out of the open window, watching the twinkling lights in the sky. The wind gently blows into the room, catching the curtains and ruffling his messy hair tied back in a ponytail. He rubs at his eyes, feeling tired, but he couldn't sleep—not yet.

"Catch a falling star, and make a wish," his mother had said. "But use them carefully, and never waste them."

As he continues to gaze up at the sky, a star falls, skittering across the heavens, and he cups it with his hand in order to follow its path. He grins, knowing what he wants to say.

"I wish…" he whispers, "that I could be friends with Tifa."

And Cloud Strife makes his first wish.

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

She huddles underneath her blankets, flashlight lying on her pillow to provide some light. Her fingers move swiftly as she bends forward, concentrating on her task. She yawns, for the umpteenth time, but she ignores that because she had something to do before she goes to sleep.

"Make one thousand paper cranes, and your wish will come true," the Wutainese legend had said. "But only one wish at a time."

_Nine hundred ninety-nine_…she reaches for her last piece of paper; a gum wrapper she saved. A few folds, a few creases—_one thousand_. She grabs pen under her pillow, lifting the wing on her final crane and scribbling a short sentence there.

"I wish that Cloud could be happy."

And Tifa Lockhart makes her first wish.

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_~~~~~~~Nibelheim, [ μ ] – εуλ__ 1995~~~~~~~_

If his mother knew he was out at this time of the night, she would kill him.

It hardly matters now, though.

He has one hand pressed to his nose, and his other hand clutches the side of his head. He doesn't have a chance to wipe away the stupid tears that are running down his face, stinging the cuts there.

_I'm such an idiot._

_Why…why couldn't I hold on to her?_

_Why couldn't I have been the one to be more injured?_

_It's all my fault._

_Stupid…_

He moves his hand away from his face, cautiously. Good—it stopped bleeding. Using his free hand, he angrily drags his sleeve across his face, smearing the tears and blood.

_Even though it's my fault, it still hurts…_

_A lot._

Underneath the moonlight, he surveys his various injuries. Cuts, bruises—nothing out of the usual.

_I'm so useless. I can't even protect myself._

He feels the urge to slam his fist into the ground.

_It's been half a year since Tifa's accident, and I'm still weak and useless._

_But at least I'm different from all of them._

_They don't understand me._

_They won't ever understand me._

_Still—_

A half-choked sob.

_Why can't I fit in?_

He stares down at his bloody hands.

_Drat it._

The blue eyes tightly close for a moment, before opening to gaze up at the night sky. He remembers the first wish he made, when he was five.

That one almost came true, but now there was no chase of it ever becoming reality.

_And it's all my fault._

Movement out of the corner of his eye makes him look to the right. Reaching out, he barely manages to catch the star before it disappears beyond the horizon.

"I wish I could be stronger," he says aloud, the tears drying on his cheeks.

And Cloud Strife makes his second wish.

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

She doesn't understand why they won't let her out of this room. She's already better; she's awake, and she can move.

_Stupid adults,_ she frets as she snatches a brightly coloured piece of paper.

Well, at least she has something to do.

One of friends told her what had happened while she was unconscious—"that Cloud Strife really had some nerve, and now he's getting what he had coming"—and no matter how hard she had protested that it wasn't his fault, they wouldn't listen.

"_Keep away from that kid; he's a menace."_

"_You think that he would learn his lesson."_

"_Idiot bastard—why doesn't his mother do anything about him?"_

Those words echo in her mind, and tears splash down on her hands, staining the paper.

_It's not your fault. It was my own for thinking I could get my mother back._

She sets the finished crane next to the other ones she's already made.

_But why don't you come see me? If you thought it was your fault, you would come apologize, and then I could hit you over the head for blaming yourself._

A sigh.

_I wish Father would let me out already, but no—he says I need to wait another week._

_And I don't care what he says—I'm going to find in the moment I'm out of this room._

Her fingers almost tear the paper when she irately creases it.

_Everyone should stop saying it was his fault—they should listen to me._

She completes another crane, absently selecting a sky-blue coloured paper.

_But they don't listen._

_It's not fair._

_Maybe if I kicked their butts, then they would._

The one thousandth crane is finished in silence, and once again, she writes on the wing.

"I wish that I could get stronger, so that people would listen to me."

And Tifa Lockhart makes her second wish.

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_~~~~~~~Nibelheim, [ μ ] – εуλ__ 1999~~~~~~~_

He shows up ten minutes early at the water tower, and spends the time kicking the ground and tugging at the loose threads on his t-shirt.

_Maybe I shouldn't have asked her._

His palms were sweaty, and he constantly checks his pocket.

"Cloud?"

He jumps when he hears her voice, whirling around just to catch her giggling.

_She's…beautiful._

Tifa's wearing a sleeveless blue dress with light brown sandals. The blue accentuates her dark hair and red-brown eyes, and he finds himself forgetting what he was going to say.

"Stop staring." She whacks his shoulder good-naturedly, still giggling.

"…sorry." He sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "Anyway…"

"Spit it out already." Tifa climbs onto one of the boxes, dress and sandals notwithstanding. Cloud scrambles after her, climbing up so that he's higher than her position.

"I'm going for SOLDIER next spring."

"What?" Her eyes widen at this. "Cloud, you can't be serious!"

"Why not?"

"Don't tell me you're doing it just because Johnny's doing it, too."

"I'm not!" This comes out louder than he intends. "It mean, it's not because of him." He swings his legs against the box. "I wanna get into SOLDIER, and be like Sephiroth." His eyes glaze over a little bit. "Strong and brave—a hero."

Unsaid were the words "If I got into SOLDIER, everyone would like me."

"I don't really like him, though." Tifa makes a face. "I don't like his face, and he looks so proud."

"But he's really good. He helps Shinra, and kills all the enemies."

"I don't know…"

"C'mon." He racks mind for things to say. "It'll be great. I'll be famous, and maybe your father will stop hating me."

"I guess so…" Then her face lights up. "Hey Cloud, let's make a promise."

"A promise?"

"How's this? If you get really famous and if I'm ever in trouble—Cloud, you come save me, okay?"

"What?"

"Whenever I'm in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me." She grins at him. "I want to experience that at least once."

"What?"

"Stop saying 'what'—come on, just promise me!"

"All right." It wouldn't hurt, anyway. "I…promise."

"Good."

He wonders if he should jump down to sit next to her. He fidgets, looking up at the sky. As a star suddenly falls, he unconsciously reaches out to grab it, muttering under his breath.

'I wish…'

Shuffling sounds coming from the bottom, making him look down. He sees Tifa, trying to climb up. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches out, grabbing her hands.

_The last time I did this…we fell…_

He pushes the thoughts of that terrible day out of his mind, helping Tifa up.

"Thanks." She sits next to him, tapping the back of her foot against the wooden crate. He's trying not to look at her, but failing dismally.

"…yeah."

"Cloud, what were you saying?"

"What?"

"What?" she mimics him. "You were mumbling something and holding your hand up to the sky."

"Oh," Embarrassed, he looks away. "I was making a wish." He watches her from the corner of his eye.

"Really?" She smiles. "I make wishes on paper cranes."

"Paper cranes?"

"It's an old Wutainese myth." She reaches into a pocket, pulling out a slightly-wrinkled paper bird. "You make a thousand cranes, and then you make a wish, and it'll come true. See?" Tifa holds it out.

"A thousand cranes…" he laughs a little at this. "Doesn't that take a long time?"

"Who cares? It's worth it."

"You could wish on falling stars."

"But _everyone_ does that."

"So?"

"I want to be different."

Different, huh. The exact opposite of what he wants. "Well, what's your wish?"

"I haven't made one yet." She holds the crane up to the sky. "This is my three-thousandth crane, so it has to be special." Those eyes look shyly at him. "I'm thinking about making one for you."

"Really?"

Tifa nods, taking a pen out of her pocket and flipping the bird upside down to write on the wing. "I wish that…Cloud…could always...be my hero." She says, writing the words down. "Here."

He takes the proffered bird hesitantly. "Then-then I'll make a wish for you."

"Oh, no, you don't have to."

"But that's only fair," he insists, pulling a small stone out of his pocket. "I..uh—well, I found it in a stream." He brushes some dust off it. "It looks a star if you hold it up to the moonlight." He demonstrates, and to his word, the stone glitters brightly. "I wish that Tifa could always wait for me to come save her."

She takes the stone from him. "Thanks, Cloud." Another smile. "I'll wait till you get in SOLDIER and you're all famous, and then you can return my bird, and then I'll return your stone. Promise?"

"It's a promise." He grins back before glancing at his watch. "I gotta get back, before my mom starts to worry." He jumps off the crate, uncaring of the distance.

"See you around?"

"Maybe." He waves to her before running off, making sure the crane was safely tucked away.

I hope that the wish will come true…and that I can keep our promise.

"It shouldn't…be that hard," he muses aloud as he runs, "right?"

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

Tifa stays a little longer at the water tower, gazing up at the myriad of stars. It's times like these that she wishes she knew their names.

She's never wished on stars before; she never wanted to, and even more so after listening to the old tale of paper cranes. Cranes were so much more interesting—she made them, and out of the work of her hands, she could make a wish. As long as she has plenty of paper, she can make her wishes.

Still, to think that Cloud wished on stars was something she didn't expect. Cloud—a boy who's brash and shy at the same time, with the odd spiky hair and vibrant blue eyes—wished on falling stars.

She glances down at her hand, stone tightly clenched. It's rough to the touch, but whenever she holds it up, it glitters like diamonds.

"A fallen star…" Tifa says to herself. "The sound of anything 'fallen' is sad." Maybe that's another reason why she doesn't wish on stars. Fallen angels, fallen stars—it was all sad to hear. Why not wish on something happier, like paper cranes?

But she's surprised that Cloud told her. He doesn't strike her as the person to wish on anything. Oh, he definitely daydreamed, but this was something else.

_Maybe because…he doesn't have anything else. _She twists her mouth in a frown. _Cloud isn't rich, doesn't get along with others, and gets shoved about._

_Yet he still can wish and aim high despite that._

_He wants be in SOLDIER, with all that cool armour, the fame, and power. Strong._

_SOLDIER…_

_Shinra…_

_Sephiroth…_

She realizes that they all start with "s."

Tifa's not one to care so much about words, but the sound of so many 's's makes her think of snakes, those slithering reptiles with their long flickering tongues.

She shudders.

_What if they're all like snakes? _

She's not stupid, she's heard some people worry about mako and the Lifestream. The rumours bother her, a little, but not too much—because Nibelheim's future does depend on its reactor. What if Shinra was just a giant snake, curling itself around the Planet, the Lifestream, the mako—just to feed itself while squeezing the life out of the people without caring?

She shakes herself out of her thoughts.

_This is ridiculous._

She laughs at herself.

_Guess I should stop eavesdropping on people's conversations._

_Let the adults worry about it._

"I just hope…Cloud will keep his promise." She's never made a promise with him, so she doesn't know what expect.

But she trusts him…

Maybe it was his hesitant tone of voice, or his smile that made her so sure.

She just trusts him.

_I still don't really understand why the other kids don't like him._

_He's not much different._

_Well, maybe he is different, but he's supposed to be just another person._

She's not blind to the bruise on his forehead he was sporting, but…what can she say? She's just a girl.

Well-liked, but still a girl, and boys don't listen to her that well because of that.

_Hmph._

_One day, I'll beat them all up and show them who's boss._ She's already been taking lessons in the martial arts, and her teacher said she's got talent (the only reason her father lets her continue with them).

It suddenly occurs to her that Cloud's last name also starts with an "s," just like SOLDIER, Shinra, and Sephiroth.

But this was different.

The "s" combined with the "t" and "r" make a different sound, unlike the hissy, annoying sound of "s."

"Str…Strife," she whispers.

An uncommon name. But it fits him. Most boys had the ordinary names like John or James (There's a kid called Marcus, but she doesn't think much of him at all).

Cloud Strife—of all names, she doesn't know a better name for him. It sticks out but fits like a glove.

Sephiroth's an even weirder name, but it makes no sense to her. Some random word from an ancient language she didn't know of—what's the use of that. It just made him sound mysterious and more beautiful than he already was (well, that's what some of her female friends said as they were mooning over that giant poster). Plus, it just distanced him from everybody else.

It didn't have the trusting, familiar feeling that the name "Cloud Strife" provided.

_Why am I thinking so much about him?_

_It's not like we're going to marry or anything._

She wrinkles her nose at this.

"It's just a promise. That's it," she tells herself.

Nevertheless, she hopes that Cloud will have the best of luck, all the same. SOLDIER was tough, she heard.

"You stay alive, all right, Cloud? Don't get yourself beat up trying to become a hero." She jumps down the crate, uncaring of her attire.

"One Sephiroth's enough for the Planet. We don't need another perfect hero."

Cloud, the flawed hero. Brave but introverted. Golden hair (never mind the spikes) and bright blue eyes instead of unearthly silver hair with frozen green eyes.

She likes that.

Tifa tosses the stone up, watching it gleam and sparkle before she catches it and makes a fist around it.

"I'll wait for you…Cloud."

_**End Part I.

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**A/N: **The "Cloud-and-Tifa water tower scene" was slightly paraphrased.


	2. Part II

**Falling Stars and Paper Cranes**

_**Part II**_

_~~~~~~~Midgar,_ _[ v ] – εуλ__ 2001~~~~~~~_

Some days, Cloud Strife wonders if he's made the right choices.

SOLDIER was hard, harder than he expected. The grueling, unforgiving schedule everyone followed. The harsh criticism—and he might even say, condescendence—from his instructors. The verbal and physical abuse from his peers. The clumsiness of his own body.

Academically, he was in the upper middle. He had a knack for remembering the most important facts, and he didn't find the writing assignments terribly difficult.

It was the physical part that got to him. He was used to scrapes and falls, yes. But time and time again, he scored poorly. Wrestling was beyond him. Target practice was nerve-wracking. The only two things he did better at were endurance-skills and swordplay. He tells himself that would be enough, even thought he knows it won't make the cut. He might be able to rise in rank in the army, maybe, but SOLDIER required that one be experienced in all areas.

The exams came…and went. It was a weekly thing, and by end he was fatigued in both mind and body.

Cloud staggers out—they had Saturday free; tomorrow the results would be posted—into the streets. He's sick of the city's smells and looking at the mako-tinged sky. He doesn't want to see anyone, not even his friends.

As a cadet, he isn't allowed to go far. But he goes to an empty training field outside of Midgar. Here, he can breathe and see the stars.

He lies back in the grass, head resting on his arms.

_I know I'll be able to pass the writing test. No problem there._

_But…_

He inspected a bruise on the inside of his arm.

"Damn," he curses.

His ribs hurt. His head aches. He's limping. He's collected an nice assortment of bruises and cuts throughout the week.

_Maybe I really won't make it into SOLDIER._ A frustrated sigh.

_Dreams and reality never go together._

_But why can't I do it?_

_Does the world hate me so much?_

_I'm…I'm sick of being trampled._

He watches a star falling, and out of habit, he reaches out to clamp a hand over it.

His hand clenches tightly.

"Please. I want to—need to—be in SOLDIER."

_I made a promise._

_I can't break it now._

He returns to his dorm, feeling only a little bit better.

By tomorrow noon, he's locked himself into bathroom to bury his face in his hands.

Yeah, he didn't pass.

It meant another year of the same treatment. He'd endured the snickers and jibes for half a day before he couldn't stand it any longer.

Hope was a damn fickle thing.

So was wishing on stars.

_Forget it._

_It's not worth it._

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

_Nibelheim, __[ v ] – εуλ__ 2001_

There are days when Tifa Lockhart hates her life. Days when training was dull and repetitive. Days when she and her father argued over various things. Days when she punched boys who tried to make a pass at her.

She's a fighter, not one to back down from challenges. But time and time again, her concentration slips, and it feels like she's back at the beginning of everything. Her moves were too slow. Her limbs were too ungainly.

Everything was wrong.

_I'm such a failure._

She absently rubs her bruised knuckles with her fingers. _Sensei says I'm doing much better, but I think he's just saying that to make me feel better._

Her hands reach for a scrap piece of paper in her pocket—her four-thousandth crane.

_I wonder how Cloud's doing._ A fold. _He wrote to me only twice, and I didn't read about him in the newspapers…no one seems to have heard about him, either._

There was only news on that Sephiroth, and three other SOLDIERS...nothing about Cloud Strife. Tifa wonders at this. Maybe he's not up for SOLDIER. From what she had heard, the other boys from Nibelheim had already given up, choosing to stay at Midgar for various jobs.

_But Cloud's staying._

She finishes another fold, tucking it in.

Surely, that had to count for something.

_I hope he's doing well._

_Maybe I should write to him again._

She finishes the crane and holds it up, inspecting it. The dark green paper was thick, and the sunlight only penetrates its wings. By now, Tifa can finish a crane in two minutes. The only thing keeping her from making them faster was lack of free time, though she rebelled against this by making them during class or under the covers.

_I wonder what wish I should make today._

Various ideas run through her mind and are quickly scrapped. She chews on her lip, wondering if it should be a wish for herself or for Cloud.

I gave a wish to him last time, she finally reasons.

She finds a pen on her desk and scribbles her wish on the wing, whispering softly.

"I wish I could be stronger."

She tells herself it's for their promise. Yes, she wants to be saved by her hero, but she doesn't want to appear like those weak, blubbering girls in those children's stories.

Does she love him? Tifa's asked herself this question, many times.

Her answer was always the time.

Maybe. A little.

Yet as long as Cloud didn't return that, it didn't mean anything.

Sometimes she tells herself it's all a fantasy—Cloud and her, together.

But on days like these, Tifa can't help but think of it as reality.

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_~~~~~~~Nibelheim, __[ v ] – εуλ__ 2003~~~~~~~_

Green. So much green.

It makes him sick.

He who was once fascinated by mako was now _drowning_ in it.

His throat hurts from screaming, vomiting, and the things that crazy bastard Hojo shoves down into it. He's tried to escape—once, and paid dearly for it.

_Living Hell on the Planet…_

_This has to be it._

_Gaia, I want to die._

_But according to Hojo…I've already died several times, only to be brought back._

He shudders.

A touch on his hand reminds him he's not alone in this, and the movement eases his panic, a little. He reaches out to grab Zack's fingers, not caring if it's childish.

It's not only the physical pain, though.

Whatever they did to him, he doesn't know. All he knows it that there are voices in his head that won't shut up. A shredded thought of something murky-greenish lingering in the back of his mind, niggling at him. And something else that was toying with his memories, waiting to crush them—

Cloud doesn't know how to put those ideas into words. They're just there, and he's terrified of losing himself.

_How…how much more of this can I take?_

_Everyone's got a breaking point._

He doesn't want to be like Sephiroth. Not anymore. Not when it means trading sanity for power. Not when it means becoming a puppet.

Not when it means breaking his promises.

At least he kept one of them.

He saved Tifa.

But...he couldn't save anyone else.

His fingers search for the paper he's hidden in his clothing.

The crane.

Thought it's wrinkled and discolored, it's still intact. The mako preserved it, he supposes. It's his only link to the outside world.

He closes his eyes; the darkness felt better than the green world he's doomed to stare at.

A part of him wants to break down and cry. Scream. Fight like one possessed. But he knows it won't work. All that earns him was more experiments. More pain.

_I want to see the stars._

Was that a wish?

No.

Forget that he told himself he wouldn't do this anymore—he _needed_ to.

In his mind, he's staring at the sky.

There's only one star.

It falls, slowly.

He grasps it in his hand.

"Let me live," He spits out the mako in his mouth as he struggles to form the words. "N'survive this—please."

Zack's talking to him, but he can't make out what he's saying. He just shakes his head, letting it drop to his chest.

_Tifa, I hope you're all right,_ he thinks as the lights in the room flood in, signaling more time with Hojo. _'Cause you're one of the reasons why I'm still fighting to live._

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

_Midgar, __[ v ] – εуλ__ 2003_

Life was more interesting, in both a good and bad way. Good in that she was no longer sitting in Nibelheim twiddling her thumbs, and bad in that the opposite gender seemed so_ fond_ of getting on her bad side.

_What is it with men?_ Tifa wipes a table, feeling smug and annoyed at the same time (Outside, several teens were moaning and lying on the ground, cursing their bad luck).

She was a person, not some toy, dammit.

At least the men of AVALANCHE treat her with proper respect. She smiles at this thought.

Who knew that she would become part of a terrorist group?

Then again, she didn't expect that—that silver-haired bastard to go _crazy_ and burn up her home.

Every day, she cursed Sephiroth. Every day, she glared at SOLDIERs who wandered into her bar. Every day, she prayed that Shinra would fall.

She glances down to realize that she's been digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands. Tifa relaxes them, sitting down in a chair with a soft sigh.

Even though her life had been ruined, it didn't mean that the world was ending. She had found this place to be home, and she had people to call her friends.

Maybe…it was better this way.

Not the process, but the outcome. She glances around the empty bar with some pride.

Her bar.

Life would be satisfying, if not for one thing missing—

Cloud.

She hadn't heard from him the day he had helped her. If she closed her eyes, she could still picture his blue eyes, spiky hair, and shy smile.

_Why hasn't he contacted me?_

_Doesn't he care about me?_

_If he's still working for Shinra, then maybe I ought to march up to him, hit him over the head, and drag him down here to talk some sense into him. _She chuckles at this.

But something tells her he's no longer with Shinra.

Then _where_ was he?

She has no answers, nor any idea where to look for them.

_The word "dead" never crosses her mind._

Her fingers trace the rough contours of rock she keeps in her pocket—her only link with Cloud. Her other hand fingers the five-thousandth crane.

She had lost all her cranes in the fire. Undaunted, she had remade all of them—except the one she gave to him—out of small pieces of papers that were the same size, keeping them in a small pouch she carried on her belt.

Resolutely, Tifa finds a pen and writes on the back of crane's wing.

"Cloud, please come back to me." She folds the bird up, tucking it away with the others. "Because I'm waiting for you."

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_~~~~~~~Outskirts of Midgar,_ _[ v ] – εуλ__ 2007~~~~~~~_

_Damn._

_It's like I have a hangover._

_If only._

_Maybe I just went to Hell and back._

Humourlessly, he laughs at this, rubbing his temples.

As least his mind is mostly clear, unlike the greenish haze he seemed to be stumbling through for the past few days.

The darkness lingering in the back of his mind seemed to be gone, but his thoughts were still hazy. For a moment, he thinks he's forgotten his name, his age, and where he was born. After a bit of frantic thinking, he finally remembers.

_It's an odd feeling, thinking you've forgotten your own name._

There was a voice inside his head, but it's not as loud as it was before, and he can tune it out with ease.

_I'm…I'm Cloud._

_Cloud Strife._

He repeats this in his mind.

_Cloud Strife, SOLDIER First Class._

He attempts to walk a little faster, ignoring the ache of his muscles.

"I'm…I'm no longer with Shinra," he says aloud. "They…did something to me." What it was, he can't remember. He just knows it has to do with his memories.

_Then what am I? My occupation?_

He frowns.

_A…a mercenary._

Yeah, that sounds right.

_Cloud Strife, a mercenary, former First Class SOLDIER._

Over and over, he says it in his head until it's been embedded.

He's not sure what had happened to him over the past few days—weeks? Months?—but from the headaches and shakiness that he feels, he knows it hasn't been anything good.

But he survived it, right?

That means everything would be okay.

He pauses to glance up at the darkened heavens, where the myriads of stars sparkled, more beautiful than any materia he had seen.

When was the last time he had seen them?

The thought suddenly struck him.

_I think…I used to wish on falling stars. As a kid, maybe._

Cloud resists the urge to slap his hand to his head.

_Why am I forgetting so many things?_

Swearing softly, he rakes his hair back with his hand.

_Guess I'll wish on them, anyway. Maybe some good will come out of it._

He waits until a star plummets from the sky and cups it gently.

"I wish," he begins, and stops.

What's he supposed to say?

"I wish…that I'll find myself."

He feels like an unfinished puzzle piece. Part of it is completed, but there are gaps, and someone is trying to shove pieces of a different puzzle at him. It grates him, but can he do? He's no psychiatrist, and the very thought of seeing any sort of doctor makes his heartbeat race and his head feel faint.

_I want to find myself._

_I need to find myself._

Satisfied with this, he continues on his way to Midgar, disregarding the sick feelings in his head and his stomach.

Step after step, he walks, or rather, drags.

The sword weighs him down. He's beginning to trip more often. Feeling fatigued, he tries to think of way to keep himself moving. He counts his steps. He rehearses sword moves in his mind. He tries to dig into his memories.

After a few hours, he's finally in the city. It's just like he remembers it—huge. Lavish. Reeking of mako. And the giant Plate, covering everything.

He attracts stares, given his clothing, but he ignores them. His head is killing him and there's that greenish haze to everything again. He could hardly care less what they thought of him. He's also finding breathing to be a bit of a pain.

Cloud somehow finds the road that leads to under the Plate. He doesn't know where to go; he just knows he has to go somewhere.

_Need to sit down…_

Staggering into an alley, he sits down, letting his sword scrape the dirty ground as he leans his head back, mouth slightly agape as he gasps.

It was raining; he could hear it drumming on the Plate.

_I wish Shinra could've…made it with glass. Then everybody…could see the sky and the rain…_

As his eyes start to glaze over, he's startled by someone calling his name.

_Huh?_

"Cloud? Is that you?"

He grimaces, sitting up straighter and opening his eyes.

"T-Tifa?"

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

_Midgar,_ _[ v ] – εуλ__ 2007_

She runs the lists of groceries through her head.

_I need that… that…this…that—oh, and that._

_Shoot, I'm already running late. Jessie's going to kill me for making her take care of the bar for so long._

She stops.

_I know the alley isn't the safest one, but it cuts down my trip back to Seventh Heaven…_

After a moment of indecision, Tifa settles on the alley for a shortcut. She quickly checks her gloves before stepping in the darkened area.

Ragged breathing makes her jump, and her eyes narrow at the figure slumped against the wall, taking up half the walking room.

_Stupid drunks._

She's ready to shout at the person when she notices the half-lidded, bright blue eyes.

_Mako…_

_A SOLDIER?_

But she thought that the SOLDIERS were virtually gone, with Shinra's popularity getting lower and lower with the common people.

She cautiously steps closer, and her heart skips a beat as she catches sight of the spiky hair.

_It can't be!_

"Cloud?" Her voice cracks little.

He moves a little.

"Cloud, is that you?"

_Please, please, please, let it be him._

"T-Tifa?"

She quickly walks forward. "What are you doing here, Cloud, sitting in an alley?" She kneels down next to him, taking in his disheveled appearance and the large sword on his back.

Looks like…Zack's gone. A twinge of sadness nudges her as she recalls the cheerful First Class SOLDIER.

"Uh…I don't know?"

"How did you get here?"

"…I walked."

"Walked? From where?"

"…"

Hesitantly, Tifa reaches a hand out to rest on his shoulder. "Never mind." She notices the glazed look in his eyes. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"No." He reaches a hand up to clasp hers, and she tries not to recoil at the clamminess of his fingers.

"Do you want to stay with me?"

"You-you don't live in Nibelheim?"

"Not anymore. I'll explain later." She brushes thoughts of the fire out of her mind. "I own a bar now, and I manage it, along with some friends. There's plenty of room."

He seems to consider this.

"All right."

"Can you stand?"

"Not really." He pushes himself up. "Don't know what happened…I just found myself wandering outside of Midgar. No money, nothing—except my sword and—" his face lights up. "I got into SOLDIER, Tifa."

"That's good to hear." Her voice is cool as she helps him up.

"But I'm not with them anymore, Tifa."

She doesn't answer, looking instead at his clothing.

"Honestly, Tifa." His hand tightens on her. "I don't know what happened, but Shinra messed up four years of my life." He tries to catch her eye. "That's—that's why you haven't heard from me."

Four years? Shinra?

It sounds a bit fishy to her, but she decides not to think of it at the moment.

"Come on, let's go." She tugs at one of the bulky pauldrons. "You're going to catch a cold with these wet clothes."

"Yeah."

They make their way in silence to the bar. Jessie looks at them, but like the good friend she is, she doesn't say anything. For once, Tifa's happy that Barret's late, because she's not sure she can handle his temper at the moment.

Once she shows Cloud a room—her room, because she knows Jessie will let her bunk with her—and the bathroom, she makes her down to the bar.

"Who was he?" Jessie asks.

"He's an old friend," she replies distractedly.

The wish came true.

"You need anything, Teef?"

"No." She looks up with a smile. "Thanks, Jess."

"No problem." She heads for the pinball machine. "I'm going downstairs to helps Biggs and Wedge."

She nods, and with somewhat shaky fingers, she works on five more cranes, ending with her six-thousandth one.

_It's such a coincidence that I finish it today,_ Tifa muses as she examines her completed work.

As was her tradition, she gets out a pen and writes on the bird's wing.

"I wish that things will look up now."

They should, now that she's finally found Cloud. He seemed like a shadow of himself, but he was still the Cloud Strife she knew.

What could possibly go wrong?

_**End of Part II.

* * *

**_

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and put this on their alerts and favorites. :) Parts III and IV are still in the works; most likely, I'll be updating this story either late July or early August.


	3. Part III

**To Clerith fans:** Though I'm a Cloti fan, I like Aerith's character and respect the Clerith pairing. There is no Aerith or Clerith bashing in this story.

**To Cloti fans:** Please, no comments disparaging Aerith or the Clerith pairing.

**Other:** The timeline is a bit iffy; I'm using the FFVII 10th Anniversary Ultimania and the Crisis Core Ultimania, Schala-Kitty's timeline found on the FFVII Citadel site, and IcyBrain's "Everything You Need to Know About FFVII" timeline.

* * *

**Falling Stars and Paper Cranes**

_**Part III**_

_~~~~~~~Midgar, __[ν] – εуλ__ 2007, late December~~~~~~~_

Cloud sits on the steps outside of Seventh Heaven. After a week, he's feeling better. No more of the strange weakness or odd headaches that were plaguing him earlier.

But there are still gaps in his memories, like moth holes in a shirt. For the life of him, he doesn't know how he spent four years of his life.

_Four years…_

_I'm…not a teen anymore._

_Why can't I remember?_

The niggling feeling never leaves him. He tries his best to push it all aside, focusing on looking like the hero he should be. He's an ex-SOLDIER, with the uniform and sword-fighting abilities to prove it…

_And what if it's all a lie?_

…

_This is stupid. There should be a reason as to why I lost four years' worth of memories._

_If I were living a lie, I would know._

Whatever his past, he isn't really happy with what's going on right now.

_I'm supposed to be a mercenary. Then why did I make plans to start bombing mako reactors with a loud-mouthed oaf who can't stand me? _

(Not in a lifetime would he admit Barret's enthusiasm was rather contagious.)

_Why am I fighting?_

_For the Planet?_ Nope; it's not a big deal to him. If he dies, he dies. Once everyone dies, then…there's nothing.

_AVALANCHE?_ They wish it were so. He knows they don't trust him. Barret eyeballs him. Biggs and Wedge are wary of him. And he's sure Jessie only tolerates him because he's Tifa's friend.

_Myself?_

Cloud frowns at this. It was more of a possibility. He wants to be known. Admired. Stuff he only dreamed about. Yeah, he guesses it's for himself.

_And…maybe even for Tifa._

_I think…I once made a promise with her._ There was the little paper crane he carries around with him, though he doesn't remember why. He supposes it has something to do with their promise.

He resists the urge to bury his face in his hands, choosing instead to mutter a curse.

_I can't let Tifa and others see me like this…forgetting my own memories, wondering who I am—it's not going to work out._

He's not the weak, clumsy kid like before.

Resolve a bit more strengthened, he leans against the doorpost to gaze at the sky—or where he imagines the sky to be.

Barret was right in one way—the Plate was made of failure. What's the point of some giant metal piece hiding the sky? For rich guys like Shinra, that's what.

A soft sigh of disgust. Maybe he did care—a little—for the Planet's plight.

Closing his eyes, he imagines a perfect sky, filling with millions of lights. In his mind, he focuses on the largest star, watching it fall…fall…fall.

He stops it with his outstretched hand.

"I wish I were the world's hero."

Maybe the world no longer needed Shinra or SOLDIERs, but it would always need heroes to bail it out.

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

Tifa's curled up in one corner of the basement, where she can keep a light on without waking anyone up.

_Five more cranes to go…_

This was her fastest record so far, and her fingers are aching, but she tells herself it'll be worth it.

From the day she saw Cloud slumped in the alley (1) up to now, she could hardly believe it was him. He was older, of course, but what dismayed her more was that the hopeful, hesitant look in his eyes was gone.

_We've both changed._

_Cloud, I never asked you, but what happened in those four years?_

She presses the palm of her hand against a large fold, smoothing it down.

In some ways, it was good. After he recovered from his journey, he seemed more confident about himself. But in other ways, his lack of concern for things that were important to her was odd. She would ask, but every time she ventures close to that topic, Cloud's eyes flicker, and he would fidget like a little child.

_In some ways, he's grown-up, but in other ways, he's still acts like an adolescent._

…_hn. I think I'm thinking too much about him._

Tifa sticks two more cranes in her pouch—three more to go before she reaches seven-thousand.

She doesn't know why, but Cloud Strife—his name, his personality, himself—still fascinates her.

_I think I can write an essay on him and not fully understand him._

Again, she asks herself the age-old question—does she love him?

Her fingers fumble; crane number six thousand ninety-eight is done.

Yes. No. Maybe. The three choices are in her mind.

_I don't think he cares so much about me like he used to._ _He hasn't mentioned our promise._ She touches the rock tucked away in the pouch. _Did he even keep my crane?_

_Love…when I was young, I hated that word. After Cloud disappeared, I've never stopping thinking about it._

_Did he ever see me beyond a good friend?_

She had so little indication. A promise, a stone—what else?

_Maybe I should just give it up._

Tifa glances down at the partially done bird in her hand.

_No, I can't._

_Not unless I really know he's going to keep his promise, it'll either hurt more or Cloud—_

Because, love aside, she cares too much for him.

_Maybe I should become his mother. Then I can love him and not care about what he thinks about it._

She smiles faintly at this thought.

_I think I need more sleep…_

Tifa inspects her seven-thousandth crane. It's as close as she can get to perfection, and she hopes that's how close she'll get to achieving her wishes.

Stealing a pen from Jessie's desk, she writes on the wing.

"I wish that I could understand Cloud."

Goodness knows when the wish will come true. She has a feeling that she won't ever fully comprehend the enigma known as Cloud.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

_~~~~~~~The Golden Saucer, __[ν] – εуλ__ 2007, early January _(2)~~~~~~~

His problems, Sephiroth and Shinra included, seemed far away when he was with Aerith. Last Cetra, flower girl, it didn't matter—Aerith was Aerith. She had that ability to talk to him and make him forget about things that worried him. Her sense of humor never failed to cheer him, even when he always tries to hide this. More often than not, he walks right into her intentions to draw him out.

Cloud finds it hard to believe he's just spent most of a day, not running after Sephiroth, but having fun. Maybe the play he was forced to act in was awkward, but it was worth it, seeing Aerith's delight.

The day had induced an odd mixture of satisfaction and disquietude.

His state of mind isn't as peaceful as he wants it to be. Even after nearly a month, he still feels…fragmented in some ways. Aerith's side comments on his personality—she thinks he's like someone called Zack—and insistence of "I want to meet _you_" just raises questions that he's tried to ignore for so long. His memories are as hazy as ever, and he senses that Tifa wants to pry, but she's too polite to.

Aerith? She didn't beat around the bush; she asked for straight answers in a playful sort of way that wasn't intruding. When he couldn't answer her questions, she would sigh, but…

_But she still accepts me._ That was a relief, because half of the group seemed suspicious of him, even Tifa. But what did they want him to do? Crack open his skull and let them see for themselves what he himself couldn't find? Huh, if that worked, then maybe he should label himself as crazy and hand himself over to a psychiatrist.

So today, he simply lets Aerith clasp his hand and lead him around, trying to forget about his personal problems.

The night sky was clear. Fireworks flared in the nearby distance, but even they did not hinder the natural display of twinkling stars.

"It's so beautiful."

He only nods.

"Cloud?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's make a wish on the stars."

He's surprised at this. "You make wishes on stars?"

"Why not?" She looks at him with those warm green eyes of hers. "It's for fun."

"All right." He doesn't tell her that it's a habit of his to wish on stars.

Together, they wait until the stars being to fall.

Cloud wordlessly catches one in his hand.

"I wish that I won't forget this day," he intones in a soft voice.

Who knew when would be the next time he enjoyed peace like this? Peace never lasts long, and he knows once they catch up with Sephiroth, it's a life and death situation that left no room for errors.

He steals a glance at the girl standing beside him, hands clasped and face aglow. A soft wind blows over them, ruffling his hair and tugging at the pink ribbon in Aerith's hair.

Well, maybe with a Cetra, it would last longer.

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

Aerith was a friend. She didn't deny it. The flower girl brought an air of cheerfulness to their group. But there were just days when…Aerith was the very embodiment of the perfection she couldn't achieve.

Tifa half-listens to Yuffie's teenage chatter. She nods, and smiles at the right moments, fingers rapidly folding cranes. She doesn't care how long it takes her, because she's determined to finish eight thousand cranes today.

_I can't—shouldn't—be feeling like this._

Didn't she say that she wouldn't ask if she loved him until she was certain he had feelings for her?

Then was she so agitated now?

_It's just one date._

_One date's not going to resolve anything._

She doesn't believe in that "love at first sight" nonsense. The day that happens would be the day Shinra said he hates money.

"Ne, you're not listening, Teef."

Tifa bites down on her lip as she stuffs six cranes into the small bag. "Sorry, Yuffie."

"S'all right." Yuffie waves a hand and flops down next to her bed. "Wonder what's taking Aerith and Chocobo-Head so long."

"I don't know." She creases a fold so hard it nearly rips the paper.

"Jealous, are we?"

"I'm not jealous." But she says it too quickly and forcefully. Tossing two more cranes aside, she set to work on the last three.

"_Senbazura_."

She looks up at this as Yuffie holds up one of the birds. "An ancient Wutainese legend that claims making one thousand origami paper cranes will grant a wish." The ninja tugs on the tail, making the wings flap. "I tried to make them, once, but I got tired of it."

"Why?" She couldn't imagine tiring of this. But as she glances Yuffie's way, it's not hard to believe it.

"I was seven. My mother died from an illness." She stops kicking against the bed. "I wanted to see if I could bring her back. But I got to bird number forty, maybe fifty, and I couldn't do it anymore."

"Oh…"

"Don't you dare start feeling sorry for me, Lockhart." Yuffie pretends to glare at her. "Anyway, how many have you done?"

"I'm going on eight thousand," Tifa tells her.

"Eight thousand? Leviathan!" Yuffie's eyes widen. "Just how long have you been making them?"

"I think when I was five." She finishes her last one and sighs, wondering if it's even worth it. "I heard the story and liked it better than wishing on falling stars." Once again, Cloud's in her thoughts.

"Well, it's gotta count for something." In an unexpected gesture of sympathy, Yuffie puts her arm around Tifa's shoulder and gives her a light squeeze. "I'm gonna go and bother Vincent."

"''Yuffie, you shouldn—' But she already out the room. With a smile and a shake of her head, Tifa grabs a pen to scribble on the crane.

"I wish that Cloud would make his feeling clear."

It was probably the most daring of her wishes, but she's got nothing to lose at this point.

-

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-

-

-

-

-

_~~~~~~~One week before Meteorfall, __[ν] – εуλ__ 2007, late January _(3)~~~~~~~

_'Cloud... Words aren't the only things that tell people what you're thinking...'_

That's what she said to him before they lapsed into an awkward silence.

And he doesn't know what to say in reply. He knows he needs to break this silence, but he's not sure how to do that. He reaches back to touch his Buster Sword, which he's stuck into the ground so that he had a support for his back.

He glances at Tifa, who's staring up into sky.

Maybe actions speak louder than words, but he sometimes feels he fails at both. Speaking…acting on his feelings…his tongue is tied, his hands are clumsy—the excuses run through his mind.

But he can't deny a few things. All this time, what did he even do for Tifa? His childhood friend, his supporter?

_I've been too caught up about myself. My problems, my dreams. Even when I first starting helping her out, it was in hopes to achieve glory._

He crosses his arms and looks away.

_She's helped me so much…even managed to piece me together and found the things I lost. There's still some things missing, but I'm sure it'll all come back to me in time._

_Did I…even thank you for that, Tifa?_

He recalls the day she found him sitting in some alley. Then the days after that. He realizes that most of the time, up to this point, he's been brushing aside her and her concern.

His fingers reach into an inside pocket, where the paper crane is nestled.

_I…finally remember what this is._ He faintly grins. _I wonder if you still wish on them._

_I hope…you never stop, though._

His heart beats a little faster as he realizes that now or never, he needs to say—or do—something.

"Tifa." Her name fits on his tongue, like "Aerith" but in a different way. It doesn't have the magical touch that "Aerith" has, but it invokes the warmth he's always associated with her.

"Hm?"

"Could I—we…" On an impulse, he captures her hand.

She's startled by this, but doesn't pull away. "Cloud?"

"Uh," he reaches up to ruffle the back of his head. "Thanks." He wants to say more, but the words wouldn't come.

But he sees in her eyes that she inexplicably understands what he's trying to say.

"What would you expect of me, Cloud?" She smiles and gently punches his shoulder, still holding his fingers in her free hand.

"Yeah, but I just needed to—"

"Actions, not words."

He swallows the half-formed words and clutches her hand a bit tighter.

"I'm sorry, though."

"Half of it wasn't even your fault." Tifa replies. "You've already apologized." Her dark red-brown eyes meet his bright blue ones. "And just to let you know, you can say you're sorry a million times, and I'll forgive you a million times, because—" She pauses. "because we're friends."

Cloud nods at this, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed that they were just "friends." For moment, he thought she would say some more…intimate. He almost blushes, and hurriedly he pushes the thoughts out of his mind, focusing on something else.

When Tifa rests her head on his shoulder, he's surprised, but doesn't say anything.

He lets his gaze wander to the stars.

"Do you think the stars can hear us? Do you think they see how hard we're fighting for them?" Her question, asked an hour ago, spark in his mind.

He had replied that he didn't know. But as he now looks into the heavens, he thinks it the answer might be yes. As a star trails across the wide expanse, he catches the light between his fingers.

'I wish that Tifa will always be there to help me—' he says in his mind.

A selfish, daring wish, but there was an unspoken promise in it, too.

—_Because I'll be there to rescue you._

_It's a lot easier than being the world's hero, anyway._

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

Dear, sweet Cloud. She doesn't say anything, but the look on his face when he's apologizing reminds him of the shy little boy she recalls. When he grabbed her hand, Tifa wanted to hug him, but dares not do that.

The other look on his face, when she says they were friends, was a bit harder to read. She had thought about saying "because I love you" and then covering it up by joking, but the moment didn't seem right. Cloud seems to take things very seriously these days…

_Love…_

_Why am I thinking about love again?_

Cloud cares for her. She knows this. But how much did he care? A bit, or as much as she cares for him?

Tifa steals a glance at his face; he's looking up at the stars, and she's glad to see he appears peaceful.

She realizes that she can't cut him out of her heart, not now. Seems that he's part of her now. She wouldn't say he _consumed_ her thoughts, just _dominated_ them a little.

_Lockhart, what a love-struck fool you've become._

_Oddly enough, I don't care._

She pulls a little closer to him, but not too close to appear intruding. He smells like sweat, mako, and…Cloud. The last time they had been this close, it was right before her fall down the bridge. She had been in tears, and angrily pushed away all her friends. Cloud? He had ignored her protests, instead grabbing her hand.

_I couldn't resist you then…you just had that charm in you._

Tifa had buried her face in his shoulder, not caring if she was looking disgraceful.

He was the only one who didn't pity her.

The only one who understood what it was like to lose a parent.

_It would be nice if you would put your arm around me, right now…_

Her hand is still clasped by Cloud, and she curls her fingers more tightly. As if it were an unspoken requests, she feels Cloud hesitantly drape an arm over her shoulder. It's makes her catch her breath, but she accepts.

Her eyes meet Cloud's in a question. _'How did you…?'_

He returns it with a quirk of his eyebrow. _'I just do.'_

She laughs to herself as she remembers her own words. _'Who's doing the actions, now?'_

A low chuckle. _'You got me.'_

Tifa presses a hand against the pouch on her belt, moving her fingers until she feels the rough stone. She can see it in her mind, tracing the outlines, the chipped parts.

It's just like you, Cloud. Like a little stone that glitters.

_I'm afraid to ask,_ she admits to herself, _if you've kept my crane._

Was it just a promise that they'll respect each other's dreams, or did it represent something far deeper?

And she reminds herself she can't expect too much out of Cloud. Not yet. He's not the most decisive of people.

_But I'm willing to wait…_

She watches as his eyes close in sleep, waiting a few more minutes until his breathing steadies before she pulls out the crane she finished yesterday.

Her nine-thousandth crane rests in her palm. She doesn't have a pen at the moment, so she breathes out her words.

"I wish that one day you'd say you love me."

Her face turns pink when she says this, but she won't take this wish back. There's something about tonight—she's sure of it, that means something would happen in the future. When or how near didn't matter.

_I can't believe I'm on nine-thousand already,_ Tifa marvels, _when it seems like just yesterday I was making my first thousand by flashlight under my bedcovers._

The nature of her wish doesn't bother her. After all, she's just spent nearly two months in perilous moments and living dangerously.

_Because if I never risk anything, I won't get anywhere._

Sleep tugs at her, and she give into it.

_I'll be by your side, Cloud…as long as I can._

**End of Part III.

* * *

**

**A/N:** As I've never played the original game, I've relied on game scripts (Why is it that nearly all the scripts I find leave out Vincent and Yuffie???)/transcripts, novelizations (Three WIPs, one completed, for which I am grateful), and walkthroughs (I didn't get through it…took too long). A complete list of sources will be given at the end of this story. If you see any mistakes in regards to sequence of events and the like, please let me know.

(1) This may be wrong; some sources say Tifa found Cloud at the train station.

(2) From what I gather, most people get the Cloud-and-Aerith date when they play the game. It fit what I needed for this story.

(3) Takes place right after the infamous "Under the Highwind" scene. No, I didn't think they...*cough* got on with it. This last section was inspired by several different fanarts of Cloud leaning on his sword and Tifa leaning on him.

Thanks to everyone who's reading! :)


	4. Part IV

**Timeframe:** Pre-ACC, ACC, and Post-ACC. Months/exact dates are not given because I don't know when the events of ACC took place.

**A/N:** The previous part was written under a time limit (I was going abroad), and had a lot of mistakes. I've gone back and edited them.

* * *

**Falling Stars and Paper Cranes**

_**Part IV**_

_~~~~~~~Edge, __[ν] – εуλ__ 2009, Pre-ACC~~~~~~~_

A cool breeze flutters into the small confines of the room. One piece of paper drifts off the cluttered desk. It floats in the air for a few moments before it's snatched up by a hand.

Absently, Cloud sticks the paper under a book and continues writing. Though it's nearing midnight, he's still up.

_Maybe only a few more months of searching,_ he tells himself. _Just a little more…_

Half of the year was spent chasing down cases of Geostigma and the less-than-pleasant details. Days of questioning grieving parents, times of forcing himself to interview doctors.

The more he searches, the more he wants to find a cure. It was _somewhere_. Everything had an answer. The answer was linked to the Planet and maybe even Meteor. But he can't find the one thing that would connect everything together to make it make sense.

_Wouldn't it be better to have someone else help? Someone with the expertise?_

He remembers Tifa asking him that.

_I won't let that happen. I just can't…can't trust a kid to people I don't know._

_Isn't that being biased?_

_Tifa, there's more than a hundred cases of Geostigma. None are cured, and all of them are slowly dying. What are the chances that a doctor's going to do better than what I'm already doing?_

_But they're helping. What's so different about him? He's suffering the same as they are. It's the same problem. Everyone's trying their best, but you're not a doctor. Surely—_

_No, it's because…because of circumstances._

_Circumstances?_

He remembers at this point, he grabs her hands and holds them tightly. _He _is_ different, Tifa. I don't want to see him in the hands of strangers…_

_Please._

She gives in, of course, and says nothing more, but instead helps him find information.

He realizes that she's been quite gracious, and it makes him frown when he remembers the absent-minded way he sometimes treats her.

_I…I'll make it up to you,_ he decides as he turns off his light, ready to end his day. _I haven't forgotten—_

"Cloud?"

He turns in his seat to see Denzel standing at the doorway. "Yeah?"

"You're still up?"

"I was just going to bed." He tips his head to the side. "Do you need something?"

"No."

"…" Cloud rubs the back of head, not sure what to say.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Well..." He watches Denzel's eyes dart to his sword leaning against the wall, and understands.

"When you're a little older."

"But…Tifa's already teaching Marlene her moves."

"Is she?"

"So can I?"

"Why, though?" He feels like the officer who was in charge of questioning those to enrolled in the army. He even remembers his answer.

'_I want…'_

"—to be a hero."

He blinks at the boy still standing in the doorway.

Denzel shifts on his feet. "It's so that I can be like you."

_No, you shouldn't want that,_ he silently replies. _I'm not even a hero. Just a murderer who let himself be manipulated by a maniac._

He knows he ought to say no. Now was not the right time, and who knows what ideas he might be putting into the boy's head? But he catches the spark of determination, hope, and desperate pleading that he recognizes all too well.

"I'll teach you one move," he says, "the others will wait until you're all better, all right?"

He nods, and Cloud reaches over to disengage the switchblade from his sword. Out of all his blades, this was the smallest and lightest one.

Denzel handles it with great care. Cloud grins a little at the way he has his feet planted apart, his hands firmly holding the hilt.

"You start by holding it over your head…"

In less than half an hour, Denzel can execute the move. Despite the lateness of the hour, his eyes are sparkling with a joy that also makes Cloud smile.

He puts a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You should sleep before Tifa finds out."

"You're not telling her?"

"Not at the moment."

"Thanks, Cloud."

He watches the boy leave the room before he sighs.

_Don't be like me, Denzel. I don't want to you to become like the person I am now._

A glitter in the corner of his eye makes him glance out the window. He catches the trail of a star just before it disappears behind the silhouettes of the buildings.

_I wish the best in life for Denzel, Marlene, and…Tifa—_

His fingers trace the outline of the crane in his pocket.

—_because I keep my promises, even if it takes years for me to do that._

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

The light flickers a little, making the shadows dance and move in an annoying sort of way. The light bulb brightens for a moment before going entirely out, throwing the room into darkness.

Tifa glares at it, sighing to herself. The electricity often acted up, especially during the day. But it couldn't be helped; Edge was still a growing city, and one could expect it to be perfect. At least the plumbing works just fine; she was sure she would go mad if she didn't have a working bathroom or kitchen.

She leans over and pulls the curtains open, letting the starlight flood the room.

_He's probably still awake,_ she mentally notes. _Searching…_

One had to give him credit for determination. But she still wonders if it's the best choice. He starts the day at five and ends at midnight. The day is spent doing his deliveries, and the night is spent in his room. He sleeps for five hours, and the cycle repeats itself. On weekends, he sleeps in, eats lunch with her and the kids, and in the afternoon he goes out, sometimes taking Denzel and Marlene with him. It's a routine she's so familiar with that she can count the number of times he goes up and down the stairs. She can predict when he'll get into one of his "moods" and sits alone in the bar, nursing those old wounds of his. Even his words and actions are becoming a little predictable—

It's not that she wants to know all this. It just…comes to her after a year and a half of living with Cloud Strife.

Tifa draws her breath in, letting it out slowly as she cuts a piece of paper into ten squares. She marvels that they have come this far.

_And, in just one year, we've changed. _

These days, she reads Cloud's emotions through his eyes and reactions, not by what he says. She longs to hear his voice more often, especially the way he says her name…

_Could it be that Vincent's rubbing off on him? All that brooding and dragging around guilt—huh, at least he hasn't picked Cid's swearing at every little thing that goes wrong._ Her fingernails scratch at a jagged corner on her paper. _You're like a sitting duck sometimes,_ she berates Cloud in her mind. _You think that if you don't move and just let the world pass by, things are going to get better that way._

As she counts the pieces of paper, she realizes she's miscalculated. Nine thousand, nine hundred eighty-eight cranes are packed into that little bag of hers, and she needs eleven, not ten, scraps of paper.

_Well, I'll first make ten before I find more paper._

As she creases the piece, she realizes that's always been her unofficial motto in life—do what you can first, and others will be there to catch you when make a mistake.

_But…why can't he see that?_

Whenever Cloud gets that look on his eyes and avoids her gaze, it's on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he doesn't need to hesitate. But she can't bring herself to scold him.

_It's not like he'll break apart if I give him a shake or two. _She flicks a completed crane onto her desk._ Maybe…I love him too much. Maybe I'm afraid of what he'll think of him. After all, I'm not his wife. I'm just a good—maybe a very good—friend in his eyes. I…_

_I just don't know._

She's been waiting and waiting. One and a half years have gone by. And it seems that she's being forced to a standstill, for his sake. She's gone down this path, and every time it leaves her feeling more like she's missing half of her heart.

The next few cranes are completed hastily. Blindly, she feels around her desk for some paper. As her fingers move, she bumps against something that falls on the ground.

_A crane? _

_But it's larger than the ones I make._

_Did Cloud…?_

She seizes it. Disappointment washes over her when she realizes it's black, not blue. A bit of searching reveals a namecard on her desk, with Marlene's handwriting on the back.

'_For Tifa_

_From Marlene_'

She smiles at this.

_My ten-thousandth crane. _

_Thank you, Marlene._

The drawer rattles loudly while Tifa tries to find a non-black/blue/red pen. She comes across one of Marlene's glittery pink ones. Lifting the wing, she blows her hair out of her face and bends over, squinting at the words.

_I wish you'll give me an answer soon, Cloud…_

_Because mine won't ever change._

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

_~~~~~~~Aerith's Church, __[ν] – εуλ__ 2009, ACC (A little before the first battle scene)~~~~~~~_

He clutches his arm and grits his teeth. Just when he thinks he feels a little better, the stupid, damn pain comes back, piercing at his senses and making him feel sick. What's worse are the flashes of blue-green and the image of _his_ face ghosting in his vision, with that deep voice taunting him over and over again.

It's like being stabbed all over again, then facing those endless days of torture, agony, and frustration at Hojo's hands.

…_I hate this…_

He hates it so much that he can taste it in his mouth. Swearing under his breath as the pain fades away to a tingling feeling, Cloud releases his grip on his arm and rubs the sweat away from his face. He draws a shaky breath as he sits up to get a drink of water.

Just when life seemed to get better, a little nudge brought everything down.

He was dying.

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he was going to die—soon.

_And just what have I done during this lifetime?_

_Nothing._

_Oh, yeah, I helped the world out a little and defeated an insane, power-hungry freak, but what else?_

_I forgot Zack._

_I let Aerith die._

_I forgot my promise to Tifa._

_I…_

_I let them down._

That's why he's staying here. They can't know that this has happened to him. It's just another thing on his list of "things I've failed at."

_I'm a complete mess…_

_A broken puppet with its strings cut loose. But he tells me at anytime he can pick up the loose ends and tie me to his will at any time._

Glassy blue eyes close.

_Just exactly what am I good for if I can't even help myself?_

So many of his dreams were shattered and trodden down. He tries building new ones, but they still fell apart.

He crosses his arms and leans against the pillar, the cool stone easing some of the aches in his head. It doesn't do anything for the ache in his heart, though.

That pain, buried for two years, was burning with a new vengeance.

_I was supposed to be a hero. Someone's legacy. A savior._

_And here I am, sitting in a broken church, getting killed by Geostigma._

_Nothing. Absolutely nothing but an idiot who had his hopes up._

He doesn't want to turn into one of those despairing people who kill themselves to find release in death. No, he's not even going to consider that.

_Maybe this is payment for my sins…_

There was a time when he thought Vincent was over-dramatic about atonement. Now, he understands.

_I wonder what will come faster, _he wonders_. Death by Geostigma, or death by my suffocating thoughts?_

What he regrets most is his abrupt departure. A note on his desk, that was all. He just couldn't face their questions, their anger, and most of all, their disappointment. But he had to go. How could they stand him? He was supposed to support them, but he couldn't, not like this, weak, sick, a shadow of himself.

It felt like he was drowning. Drowning in guilt, to be exact. He presses a hand to his forehead, wishing he can stop the accusations form crowding his thoughts and sleep.

He gazes up at the gaping hole in the roof, remembering how he had fallen in and crushed a number of flowers on his way. He remembers the smiling girl who always made him forget his problems.

_And to think I nearly killed you._

_I don't deserve to have known you, do I?_

Thoughts of Aerith make him think of Tifa—the one who took his hand and guided him.

_I'm sorry, Tifa…_

His gaze follows the path of a star streaking across the heavens, and out of habit he clasps it.

_I wish I could turn back time, and take away the things that ruined our life._

An empty wish, this one. He sighs and touches his hand to his left ear lobe, where the earring is.

_I want to keep our promise, but…how can I?_

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

_Seventh Heaven, __[ν] – εуλ__ 2009, ACC_

Her fingers hurt, and there's an ache in her neck, but she doesn't care. Gaia help her or not, she's folding a thousand cranes today to make her wish come true.

She pauses only now and then to sip from the glass of wine on her nightstand. Even though it's a Monday, she hadn't opened the bar. From seven to eleven-thirty, she's been up in her room.

Her day starts at five-thirty. When she went downstairs, she saw the note on the counter.

Even before opening it, she knows what it'll say. But she reads it, anyway, in hopes that she was wrong.

The next hour and half pass by in a blur. Somehow she manages to scrawl an excuse on a piece cardboard, hang it outside, get the kids breakfast, and clean the kitchen before going back to her room.

_Why, Cloud?_

_I never thought you would run._

_Why did you run?_

_Did you think you didn't have a place here?_

Tears stings her eyes, but she forces the them away. Damn it, she's not going to cry like a lovesick teenager who just got dumped. She _didn't_ get dumped (In fact, she was the one who did the dumping when she was growing up in Nibelheim).

Then why did it feel as if her heart's been stabbed?

Was it something she said? Something she did? Or something she didn't do?

_We take five steps forward together, and then when I think we're getting somewhere, you take ten steps back._

_I don't understand. When you need my help, I was there for you. But I need you most, you're not there._

_Where are you? I call you but you don't answer._

She accidentally rips a piece of paper.

Crumple. Toss. The paper rolls a few inches, stopping next to the ring she pulled off her finger and dropped on the ground that morning.

Her once-neat folds are haphazard, and she's not bothering with making little cranes, going instead for the big ones. She just wants her wish today.

_I should hate you for leaving, but I can't even bring myself to do that. I can't hate something that's part of me—my heart._

A choked sob.

_Do you hate me?_

_I need you. I thought you needed me._

_I thought we understood each other, Cloud._

Maybe she should have seen it coming. The late returns, the avoiding of her questions, the way he walks past her into his room. The silence.

_You don't need me anymore, Cloud?_

_But Denzel and Marlene need you, too. It's not just me!_

_How can you do this? To us? Your family?_

Another ripped paper. She flings it away and punches her bed, her frustration getting the better of her.

"Tifa?" Marlene's voice.

"Come in." She looks up and offers them a tight smile.

The two are hesitant. Denzel peeks around the door, and Marlene clings to the doorframe.

She glances at the clock. "I'm sorry—I forgot about lunch, didn't I?"

"We're not hungry." Marlene stoops down to pick up the crinkled paper and the ring.

"Tifa…" Denzel begins.

"He'll come back…"

"…he always does."

The boy holds the ring out to her. "I'll—I'll protect you, Tifa." He blushes at these words. "You and Marlene."

Tifa feels the inexplicable urge to cry.

"I know." She closes her hand around the piece of jewelry, the knobby parts digging into her palm. Glancing over, she sees that Marlene's smoothed out the wrinkled paper and made a crane.

Denzel follows her, and Tifa watches them folding cranes, the pile on her bed growing.

Little by little, the tension gives way to the familiar heavy feeling in her heart, but the ache there isn't as painful as before.

She picks up a sheet of paper.

Fifteen minutes later, they're finished—eleven thousand cranes to her name now.

Silently, she fingers her last crane before writing on the back wing.

_I wish we could be a family—Cloud, Marlene, Denzel, and me…_

She hugs the kids tightly, and they don't protest.

_That's what I want most, now._

-

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_~~~~~~~Aerith's Church, __[ν] – εуλ__ 2009, Post-ACC~~~~~~~_

For the first time since he regained his memories, two years ago, his heart is lighter. The dark, thick, oppressiveness on him is finally gone. The pain of losing those he loved is still there, but it no longer weighs upon him.

_Is this…what it feels like? To have my sins forgiven?_

_I tried it._

_It was so much easier than I thought it would be._

He takes a deep breath, listening to the sound of water lapping against the broken floorboards of the church. It's only been two weeks since he defeated Sephiroth—for the third time, he might add (That man simply refused to stay dead). Life was hectic; people practically thronged into this little church. He didn't mind this, of course. What he minded more were those people who wanted to see _him_.

_Heh, I'm famous again._ He sits next to the large pool of water, watching the little ripple and waves. _I just…saved the world again._

Seven years ago, he would've been proud of the fact that he was a hero. He would have wanted the glory. He would have wanted people to admire him, to say, "He really is _something_."

Seven years ago, if had been famous, he would have gone up to those people who slandered him and said, "You were wrong. _All_ of you."

_It's odd how it all quickly changed for me._

The world loves its heroes. It hangs on them, glorifying them, etc, etc.

But they don't know that heroes comes with an expensive pricetag. You can't just pop out of nowhere.

It takes sacrifice…sacrifice of yourself, and of others.

He had been such a selfish boy, dreaming about making a name for himself. He had wanted to prove his worth. It took him five years to learn that it didn't matter what others thought about him. They could go on thinking he was the clumsy idiotic boy who hurt Tifa—he didn't care, because what was fame if you didn't have friends?

He thinks of Tifa. Her support. Her words.

_Zuruzuruzuru…zuruzuruzuruzuruzuru._

(He didn't get at first until Yuffie told him it was a Wutainese onomatopoeia word for "dragging")

He reaches into a pocket and closes his hand around the paper crane and pulls it out for inspection.

It's hard to believe it's with him after so long a time. The blue is faded, the paper soft and worn, but he can still make out the childish handwriting on the bottom of a wing.

_I didn't really keep this promise well, did I?_

"Cloud?"

He jerks out of his thoughts, turning around so quickly that he slips and topples backwards—right into the water.

"Gyah!" He gasps in surprise, shooting up to surface.

Tifa laughs.

He blushes and clambers out as fast as he can. Water drips down his face, and he knows he must look a sight.

"You look like a drowned Chocobo."

"Hn." Cloud runs a hand through his hair, kicking his boots away and slipping his gloves off. "You startled me."

"I assumed you would hear me."

"Ah…" Where's an excuse when he needs it? "I was thinking."

She walks toward him, still smiling. "Well, you still look like a drowned Chocobo."

"They can swim, you know."

"I know _you_ can."

"Tifa," he half-heartedly protests. That joke was so old, he can't believe it's still around.

"Mm?"

He stares at her face, focusing on her lips as to avoid her gaze.

_They look so soft…_

_Wait, what am I thinking?_

"N-never mind." He sits down, and she follows suit.

A few minutes pass, and he wonders if he should break the silence, but Tifa beats him to it. "What were you thinking about?"

He shrugs, and feels water running down the back of his neck into his shirt. "Life. Myself." _And you._

"Are you satisfied?"

"What?"

"With all that you did, I mean." She plays with the hem of her shorts. "I hope you finally understand what I've been trying to tell you, though."

"Yeah. I do."

"I think it's one of the few times in my life that I've gotten mad at you," she continues, "had you been sitting next to me at that time, I would've punched you."

"I'm glad I wasn't, then."

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"I probably deserved it." He looks up, daring to meet her dark brown-red eyes.

"Cloud, you—"

"I'm sorry." He blurts, finally deciding to give it a go.

She looks confused. "You don't have to—"

"No, it's not just that." He leans forward a little. "I'm sorry because I'm such an idiot." A deep breath. "I should've been there when you needed me. I was late, I didn't think about you and the kids. I didn't realize I needed you with me. I—"

"Stop it." Tifa cuts him off. "Don't you remember what I said that night, under the Highwind?" She meets his eyes, letting him see the sincerity. "You can say you're sorry a million times, and I'll forgive you a million times."

"How can you though? I've failed you."

"Does it matter?" A gentle shake of her head makes the dim moonlight catch at the earrings she wears. "We're a family, and families don't abandon their people that easily."

'_I thought you said we weren't a real family.'_

He realizes he said that out loud.

_Damn_.

But she still smiles at him. "I was wrong to say that," she replies, "because we are a family, whether you like it or not." A deliberate pause. "So you can run to the end of world, and we'll come and drag you back."

"Is that…a promise?"

"I suppose."

"...I haven't really kept ours, have I?"

"Yes, you did keep it."

"I was late."

"But you came for me. For us." She takes his hands. "That's good enough for me."

'_Really?'_ His eyes question.

'_Really,' _she answers.

He suddenly remembers the crane. "Uh, could you excuse me, Tifa?" He pulls away from her and dangles his feet over the pool.

"…uh, sure?"

He dives in, blinking in the water. It's one of the few times he's thankful for mako in his system; underwater vision was a side benefit. Spotting the crane, he grabs at it and stands to his feet.

"Cloud?"

In reply to her questioning gaze, he holds up the crane.

Her mouth parts and her eyes widen. "You…you've kept it?"

Cloud clambers back up. "Yeah." He holds it carefully. "Somehow, it's always followed me, even when I didn't remember it." He looks at her. "What about—?"

She holds up something glittery between her fingers and smiles. "I always keep it with me."

Their long-ago conversation repeats itself in his mind.

"Do you still wish on falling stars?"

"Do you still make paper cranes?"

"I asked you first."

"Um…ladies first?"

She snorts. "Fine. Yes, I still do." A soft chuckle. "I'm on twelve-thousand now."

_Twelve-thousand,_ he marvels. "I still do, but…"

"But what?"

"I wonder if any of them came true." He remembers each of them; the childish ones, the selfish ones, and the empty ones.

"You don't believe in it?"

"I—" He chews on the inside of his mouth. _I want to._

Her hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing it. "I think all of them came true. Just not in the way you wanted them to."

_I wish that I could be friends with Tifa._

_I wish I could be stronger._

_I wish that Tifa could always wait for me to come save her._

_I need to be in SOLDIER._

_Let me live and survive this._

_I wish that I'll find myself._

_I wish I were the world's hero._

_I wish I wouldn't forget this day._

_I wish that Tifa will always be there to help me._

_I wish the best in life for Denzel, Marlene, and Tifa._

_I wish I could turn back time, and take away the things that ruined our life._

'Just not the way you wanted them to…'

"Cloud? Look."

He follows her finger to see a bright star plummeting gracefully. He stretches out and catches it, bringing his fist to himself.

_I wish…_

_I want you to be mine._

_But I'm not ready yet._

His heartbeats speeds up at these thoughts.

"Tifa…" He wants to reach out and touch her face, but something holds him back.

"Yes?"

"I...thank you."

He knows he should say more, but he can't. The words stick in his throat, making him edgy.

Yet one look at her face lets him know he has all the time in the world to say what he wants.

_I shouldn't wait. I've stalled for two years, and it wouldn't be fair to her._

_But how can I say it? I'm…afraid to._

*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

She doesn't whether to break the mood or to continue it. The poor man was looking more and more uncomfortable with each moment.

_Had you been someone else, you would have already kissed me. Maybe even proposed._

But she's not going to push him. Cloud Strife isn't one to be hurried.

"Relax," she tells him. "We have all night to talk." Denzel and Marlene are in the care of their friends, so she doesn't have to worry about her responsibilities right now.

It's funny, because half of AVALANCHE was pushing for her to talk to him.

Barret: _'I think it's time you two got together.'_

Cid: _'Haven't you waited long enough?'_

Yuffie: _'Does this mean we can start planning a wedding?'_

Huh, had Cloud been paying more attention, he would have wondered why no one was in the church tonight save for himself and her. But he's not. In fact, he's spacing out so much that she wonders how this man could be the one who defeated Sephiroth.

So she gives him a smile and decided to lead the conversation to something else. "What are you going to do now?"

"Continue with life, I guess." He shrugs a little. "If you don't mind having me around."

_You can stay forever._ "Silly, Denzel and Marlene want you back." She looks pointedly at his box of things, sitting in a corner. "And it's been two weeks."

"What about you?"

"I'd like you back, yes." She chooses her words carefully. "I miss our night talks." Her hands finger the stone. "And the others will be glad to see you more often."

"You could always call."

"But it's different. Talking on the phone and talking face-to-face…"

"Even when you're doing most of the talking?"

"Cloud!" Tifa smacks his shoulder for that and instantly regrets it, because she just hit his pauldroned shoulder. "Gaia," she rubs her fingers.

"Are you all right? I'm so—"

"It's fine. Don't go blaming yourself for something as significant as this."

"Let me see." He takes her hand in his, the moisture on his fingers wetting hers. She feels the calluses underneath her fingertips, and she curls her fingers around his palm, nestling in the warmth there.

_Don't let go..._

"Any better?"

Drat, he just repeated his question. "…yes." She swallows hard, trying to quell the thoughts in her head.

"Next time, just punch me in the arm, okay?"

"I'll remember that." She tugs at the pauldron with her free hand. "Or maybe I'll just wait until you're vulnerable."

"Tifa…"

"You're coming back, right? So I'll just wait until a Saturday, when you're sleeping in and—"

"All right, I get the point." He cracks a small smile, and as always, it makes her heart melt.

"Cloud, you should smile more often." _I wonder if I should touch his face._

"Smile?"

"Well, it makes you look so much more…" _Ack, I need a word that doesn't make me sound like I'm fawning over him_. "Nicer."

"Nicer? I thought I was already nice."

"No, no, it's not that." She rubs the stone in her hand nervously. "It's because…it makes other people want to smile."

The look on his face is a mixture of confusion and contemplation. She catches his eyes.

'_I don't like it when you're sad. When you really smile, it shows in your eyes and lights up your face.'_

She recalls how he smiled at her, after Denzel was cured. The tired, strained look was gone, replaced by the smile she remembers he had as a child.

"Try to remember that, yeah?"

"Mm-hn." He looks away, self-conscious. "I'll try it."

_I know you will._

She has a feeling that now, when they take ten steps together, he'll only take two steps back.

"Tifa?"

She looks at him.

"Do you want your crane back? I know I never fulfilled this promise, so..."

She frowns a little, trying to understand his words.

'_I'll wait till you get in SOLDIER and you're all famous, and then you can return my bird, and then I'll return your stone. Promise?'_

'_It's a promise.'_

When it comes back her, she shakes her head. "Keep it. You fulfilled half of the promise, after all." She closes her hand around the bird. "What's more important is that you kept your other promise."

Maybe she's wrong to say that she doesn't believe in "love at first sight."

She loved Cloud the moment they were friends.

She just didn't realize it at that time.

When she was little, Tifa didn't think so much about fairytales. She preferred more outlandish tales, like ones about warriors battling monsters. Maybe that's why she never wishes on stars. It's ironic, though, how as a girl, she wanted Cloud to come save her whenever she's in trouble.

A princess? Hardly? And Cloud couldn't be a prince.

_No, he's a guardian._

_An angel._

_Not a fallen angel like Sephiroth, but a guardian angel who's always there for me._

Tifa smiles a little.

_Even if he sometimes had bad timing._

_But even angels aren't perfect, and I don't want you perfect._

_You're…Cloud Strife._

_That's good enough for me._

She pulls out her twelve-thousandth crane. It's a little crooked, and greasy (The paper was courtesy of Cid's). While Cloud had been battling Sephiroth, she had been watching from the window, her hands rapidly folding cranes (Yuffie called her crazy, but she didn't care). When Sephiroth had faded, she had more or less dropped stopped her task, too engrossed in watching him.

When he disappeared though, her heart had stopped. The next few hours had passed in a blur of voices, sounds, and colors. Meaningless. She thought she had lost him. Until she saw him again, she had slowly folded her last few cranes, not knowing what to expect.

Her old wishes run through her mind, one by one.

_I wish that Cloud could be happy._

_I wish that I could get stronger, so that people would listen to me._

_I wish that Cloud could always be my hero._

_I with that I could be stronger._

_Cloud, please come back to me, because I'm waiting for you._

_I wish that things will look up now._

_I wish that I could understand Cloud._

_I wish that Cloud would make his feelings clear._

_I wish that one day you'd say you love me._

_I wish you'll give me an answer soon, Cloud._

_I wish we could be a family—Cloud, Marlene, Denzel, and me…_

All her wishes, except the last four, had already come true.

And what would this wish be?

_I'll be daring, then._

_I want you to be mine._

She doesn't have a pen on her; instead, she traces the words on the wing.

"Tifa, what did you wish?"

As if she would say it. "What did _you_ wish?"

"I asked you first."

She groans. "Cloud, I—"

Her eyes meet his.

_Does he know?_

Those blue eyes are clear and intense.

_Yes._

'_I want to say it, but I'm afraid.'_ His hand still covers hers, and she feels his tension. She wants to say it, more than anything.

'…_So am I.'_

'_Same time, then?'_

'_..Yeah.'_

Pause.

Inhale.

Exhale.

"I want you to be mine."

There. It was out, and she marvel at the feelings inside of her.

His fingers trace the ring she wears on her right hand. "Tifa, I—" He flushes. "Can we take this slow?"

"I can wait as long as you want me to." What are a few more months, now that everything is clear?

She watches as he slides the ring off her finger and takes her other hand, slipping it on.

"I'll be yours—" he begins.

"—if you'll be mine," she finishes.

Still holding her hands, he leans forward.

Hardly breathing, she does the same.

"I love you, Tifa," He whispers, pulling her against himself to kiss her, and she responds by gripping his arms.

All too soon, he releases her. She offers him a smile, which he returns.

"I love you too, Cloud."

He glances at her. "I got you wet."

She laughs. "Do you honestly think I care?"

"No."

"Then don't worry about it." Too late, she catches the glint in his eyes, and she lets out a shriek when he yanks her down with him into the pool.

Tifa comes up spluttering and laughing, nearly choking on the water. "Cloud!"

"You said not to worry about it."

"But I didn't mea—"

Cloud wraps his arms around her and gives her another kiss. _'What's that?'_ his gaze questions.

'_Never mind,'_ she answers._ 'Don't you dare stop kissing me.'_

'_Good. Because I won't stop.'_

She smiles against his lips.

_I guess it doesn't matter how we wish._

_It'll all come true, eventually._

-

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~~~~~~~_A Few Years Later_~~~~~~~

The morning sunlight spills into the room, pushing through the curtains that are fluttering in the gentle breezes.

"Cloud?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember when we wished…on stars and cranes?"

"Of course."

"Do you still wish?"

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"I do, too."

"It's what brought us together."

"I know."

The rays linger on a shelf in the far corner, where a faded blue paper crane and a small glittering stone are nestled.

"Would I be selfish to wish for an eternity with you?"

"No, because I would wish the same thing, Tifa."

**The End.

* * *

**

_Story Notes:_

I've always loved the story about making one thousand origami cranes to get a wish. I vaguely remember reading only one story that had that integrated into an FFVII (It was a Yuffentine).

In the very beginning, the story was only going to be a oneshot. However, when I started writing it, I realized it wasn't enough to show Cloud and Tifa's dreams and relationships. After a bit of thinking, I settled on four parts, splitting up Cloud and Tifa's lives into four stages.

The other thing that inspired this story was a song. Anyone ever heard of Tonghua? I had never heard of it, until one of my friends wore a shirt with the lyrics. She told me what they meant, and I went home and looked them up and pretty much fell in love with that song. *grin* Tonghua means "Fairytale" in Chinese, and the chorus (the English translation doesn't really capture the beauty of the original Chinese, though, but maybe I'm biased because I myself am Chinese) goes something like "I'm willing to become like that angel you love in those fairytales/And open my hands and change them into wings that will guard you/You must believe, believe that our life will be like those fairytales/With a blessed and happy ending." (My translation; you can't actually sing with them, LOL) I won't type all the lyrics them out, but do go look up the song on Youtube (BTW, if anyone's interested, someone did a Zaerith music vid with this video, and song fits them, too).

On a unrelated note, this is only my third FFVII story posted on FF-Net, my second Cloti romance fic, and my second fic to involve origami. :P I think I have a thing for symbolism these days…

_Cloti:_

Originally, this story was going to have an open ending with no resolve, but after a bit of thought, I changed the ending to what you now read because it was more satisfying to me.

When I first watched AC, I was thinking, "Isn't Cloud married to Tifa? Why wasn't there a kiss scene?" Only later did I learn of the infamous Cleris-Cloti debate. Even so, I've always felt it should be Cloti. Don't ask why. I just think they were made for each other.

I could write a whole essay on why I think Cloti is the perfect pairing in FFVII, so I'll just close by saying that I hope/wish Nomura will decide this for us in the next addition to the Compilation. :)

_Sources:_

My list of where I get my information.

The Final Fantasy Wikia

The Final Fantasy Citadel

The Lifestream Dot Net

_Strife: A Tribute to Cloud Strife_ (Fansite)

_Never Ever // Lockheart Love_ (Fansite)

GameFAQ for scripts

Silent Tweak's Crisis Core Walkthrough

Gunshot Romance's Before Crisis Fansite

XComp's Final Fantasy Novel site, for translations of the _On the Way to a Smile_ novellas.

**EDIT: Finally found one of the fanarts that inspired me--**

http : // ladyshieru . deviantart . com / art / CloudxTifa-Blessed-Moment-51080547

(remove any spaces)

_Final Notes:_

Thanks to everyone who have either reviewed, favorited, or put this story on their alerts. I appreciate it. I hope everyone has enjoyed this story.

What next after this? Unknown. The muse comes and goes, and because I write in various fandoms, it might be some time before I write another FFVII fic. But I'll definitely continue in this fandom, as I can never stay away to long. I have some ideas, and I'll work them out.

Thank you again for reading. :)

~Cal


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